


Nightborne

by Cjblack



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Broken Promises, Broken Treaties, Harry Potter was Raised by Other(s), Hedonistic Vampires, Lies, M/M, Politics, Seventh year, Sex, Vampire Realm, Vampire/Wizard Relations, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-11 12:55:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12935748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cjblack/pseuds/Cjblack
Summary: When asked, Petunia Dursley would claim that her nephew Harry Potter went to live with a distant relative in Wales... She just can't seem to remember the face or name of the person who'd taken him. No matter; she didn't need to be inconvenienced by the ungrateful boy and his freaky behaviors, anyway. Good riddance.





	Nightborne

**Author's Note:**

> The vampire(ish?) Harry Potter AU that no one really asked me for! 
> 
> This is a plot bunny that has been hopping around for quite some time, humping my brain until one day I finally caved and started writing it. For some reason, it's a lot of fun to write. Maybe because I've taken a lot of liberties creating an whole realm/history of vampires, down to a royal family and creation story. It's also somewhat nostalgic for me, since I'm playing with tropes I feel like have become a bit obsolete these days. I'm getting old, guys.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All mistakes are my own. Any weird spacing between punctuation is likely due to Google Docs being a asshole.

* * *

 

**_November, 1987_ **

 

The glow of flames from the candelabra flickered, casting a dance of light and shadows on the walls of the otherwise darkened room.

 

Small fingers curled around the edge of the duvet, tugging it up securely around his shoulders as he snuggled and settled in to listen. His ears were keen and his eyes wide, and Keiji’s lithe form was perched on the edge of the bed, gentle and warm and protective.

 

_“In the beginning there was our creator, the First of our kind.”_

 

Harry smiled and closed his eyes. Keiji didn’t tell the story in English, not anymore. But while he wasn’t yet fluent in _Aeteravic,_ he knew what was being said, word for word in the ancient tongue.

 

_“For millennia, he walked in solitude until one day he selected fifteen children from all over the human’s world, of whom he all deemed worthy. He raised them, trained them, taught them his ways, imparted within them his beliefs, and shared with them his vision of a kingdom, a future of prosperity, strength, and unity._

 

_“And every year on the day of each child’s birth, the First would place upon their tongues a drop of his own blood. Every year it went as such, until the children fledged fully from their mortal to immortal lives, from human...to vampire._

 

_“When all but two of his children became fledglings, the First continued to teach them his ways. For centuries, it went as such, a family forged by one Immortal Master._

 

_“However, it was not until his children finally reached their Hundredth Year, that First disclosed the entirety of his plans for them: Twelve to provide council, and a King or a Queen, to lead them all.”_

 

Harry opened his eyes once more, a wave of curiosity retracting him from his sleepiness and drawing his focus on Keiji and the story.

 

“He chose Sire,” Harry said knowingly. Keiji smiled and reached out, the back of his fingers stroking the soft curve of Harry’s cheek.

 

“He chose Sire,” Keiji agreed.

 

“How come?” Harry asked. Keiji was the antithesis of the Dursleys; he was patient and kind and never once reprimanded Harry for asking too many questions. If anything, he welcomed them and nearly always had an answer.

 

The man looked to be in his twenties but Harry knew he was much, much older than that. His inky black hair was thick and feathery. On rare occasions when it was down, it fell to his shoulders. The graceful shape of his eyes reflecting his East-Asian descent. Sometimes, like today, he traced them with an eyeliner that shimmered prettily in the lighting, and though Harry knew it was women who traditionally wore make-up, Harry didn’t think Keiji looked anything like a girl. He was tall, lithely built, but broad-shouldered and remarkably strong.

 

Once a warrior, always a warrior.

 

Keiji reclined back on his hands as he regarded Harry. One leg was crossed over the other, foot bobbing to a beat only he could hear.

 

“No one knows for sure, really,” he said eventually. “I think it’s safe to say that the First saw something in your Sire that placed him above the rest. Or, at the very least, believed he possessed a certain quality that made him the most suitable to rule our people. However...” Keiji leaned in and added in a hushed voice, like he was telling Harry a secret. “Some believe that the king must have special _abilities_ that far surpass all others. We cannot say for certain.”

 

Harry nodded but his lips pursed in thought.

 

“What did you mean ‘all but two’, Dad? What happened to two of the chosen?”

 

“They did not survive the transition.”

 

Harry’s eyes widened. “How come?”

 

“As they grew up, they began to show signs of having a specific form of magic. Wizards and witches, like vampires, possess a magical core, albeit very different ones. A wizard’s core gives them an extensive list of abilities, allowing them to channel it — usually through a wand — in a multitude of ways. They can manipulate things, living and non-living, all at their will. From opening a door to taking a life, they are powerful, capable beings.

 

“As vampires, we do not harbor the capacity to perform magic like theirs, but our cores regenerate our bodies and minds _constantly._  It keeps us living far beyond our first deaths. It keeps us from sustaining injuries for any long period of time or contracting humanity’s diseases. We can manipulate the space between realms to travel back and forth. We can seduce, compel and alter memories of simpler beings and we possess much greater strength and speed...

 

“However, when those two powerful cores try to combine, we find they are not compatible. It’s simply _too_ much. Too much power for one body to contain, to possess, so the results are...devastating.”

 

“So that’s why vampires are forbidden to change wizard-folk? Because they won’t survive the transition?”

 

“Exactly.”

 

“Why is it,” Harry inquired after another moment of thought, “that Sire’s only turned you? The rest of the Council’s made loads of vampires. How come?” Keiji’s mouth opened to speak but before he could say a word, a deep and rich voice rolled across the expanse of Harry’s bedroom.

 

“I dare say that I saw something in your father that made _him_ the most suitable fledgling for _me_.” Lysandros was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his muscular chest. He wore a small smile as he regarded the pair on the bed.

 

“Like what?” Harry piped up, sitting upright at his sire’s appearance.

 

“His strong-willed spirit, for one,” Lysandros began as he strolled into the room. He took a seat beside Keiji and looped an arm around his waist, his hand splaying out on the top of his thigh. In turn, Keiji leaned back against him. “His grace and beauty. His compassionate heart. His penchant for bringing home little green-eyed imps.”

 

“Hey!”

 

“That only happened once,” Keiji objected. His cheeks glowed at the praise and he chuckled lightly at Harry’s half-hearted scowl.

 

“I could go on with the things I adore about you, beloved, but I don’t think our son wants to hear the details.”

 

“Please don’t,” Harry groaned, rolling over and plugging his ears. Keiji reached out and swatted the seven-year-old lightly and then he stood up and pressed a kiss to his forehead, directly over the strange scar that adorned it. Lysandros mimicked his actions with a light peck of his own, the short, trimmed facial hair around his mouth and jaw tickling Harry a little as he did so.

 

“Sleep well, scamp,” his Sire whispered as the light of the candelabra flickered out. The earthy smell of smoke filled the air around them and finally lulled Harry into a relaxed slumber.

 

* * *

 

**_Two years earlier…_ **

**_April, 1985_ **

 

Her hair was a warm shade of brown pulled back in a wispy ponytail. Strands had clearly fallen free of it, framing a still youthful, heart-shaped face.

 

The beast she’d been walking, a large dog with golden fur, left more to be desired; animals tended to have a better sense of danger than self-absorbed humans did.

 

Keiji walked along the length of the tree branch which likely would have snapped beneath his weight if he‘d been anyone — _anything_ — else, but it remained wholly undisturbed, even when Keiji pushed off and jumped down, landing in a deepened crouch.

 

Not a single leaf nor blade of grass rustled as he straightened back up and advanced into the vacant playground, weaving past the swing set and pausing beside a slide mere steps away now, from the woman and her pet. It had been strange once, long ago, experiencing this state of existing and...not, as if he were a ghost in the night.

 

When the dog spotted him it paused in its vigorous bout of sniffing. There was the low rumble of a growl beginning to build deep in its throat but before it could let out a bark, Keiji met its gaze straight on.

 

A canine might have had superior senses in some ways, but their minds were certainly easier to compel into submission. The mutt dropped back onto its haunches, forcing the woman to falter at the sudden action. She looked down at the dog with a furrowed brow.

 

“Are you alright?” He called softly. She flinched marginally, startled, and turned her head to look at him. The anxiety written all over her face was justified; it was afterdark in the human realm and she was young and alone.

 

Vulnerable.

 

As soon as their eyes locked the transformation in her posture was immediate. Her shoulders relaxed and face softened. Her hands hung loosely at her sides and the dog’s lead dropped to the browning grass as she smiled dreamily at him, revealing shallow dimples. The color in her eyes became nothing more than a thin, blue line encircling dilated pupils.

 

Keiji tilted his head, a small grin making its way across his face.

 

_Humans are such easy prey. It’s been so long since I’ve been this vulnerable._

 

“Come to me,” he murmured, a hand outstretched towards her. She took it without hesitation, though he movements were, languid and dreamlike.  “You are so very lovely, darling. What is your name?”

 

“Sarah,” she whispered.

 

“Hello, Sarah.” Keiji wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to his body. She sank into his embrace and let her head lull to the side, exposing the slender column of her throat. He lowered his mouth with a murmured, _“Good girl.”_

 

Sarah’s body twitched at the initial prick of his fangs but made no attempt to get away from him. Keiji drank from her slowly, the arm not supporting her weight stroked her spine soothingly as blood filled his mouth. He swallowed down each gulp of blood, thick and hot down his throat and into his belly.

 

The sound of her heartbeat grew louder with every passing moment and she made small noises of pleasure that escalated to a sharp gasp — she fell limp, shuddering against him. He pulled away, dragging his tongue over the wound to heal the puncture wounds. When she woke up in the morning, there would be nothing but a faint bruise left behind.

 

“Thank you, Sarah,” he said, his incisors retracting as he steadied her with his hands. Her arms were warm and flushed to the touch, full of life. “I think it’s time to take your dog home and get some rest, my dear. You never know _what_ you might stumble across at this time of night.”

 

Sarah nodded her head, eyes glazed over in a blank stare as she bent to retrieve the lead and tugged her dog back into motion. They left the park and disappeared beyond the dim light of the streetlamp, the single task implanted in their minds by Keiji nudging them along like an invisible hand.

 

Keiji rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully as he raised his eyes to the white moon. The only Blood Dive in the southern part of England was in West Sussex, along the coast. While Dives weren’t amongst his preferred methods to acquire sustenance by any means (the predator in him reveled far more in the hunt), they were convenient to stock up on a few pints for his busy lover.

 

Plus, he hadn’t paid a visit to Josephine Smythe, who ran that particular Dive, in a long while. And Josephine, of house Blackthorne, always had the most fascinating gossip...

 

A soft cry stopped Keiji in his tracks and he turned, allowing his senses to zone in on the sound. Something in the pathetic sound gnawed at Keiji’s conscious, piqued his curiosity. Letting his instincts take control, he took a step in the direction of the source.

 

* * *

 

Keiji’s boots clicked wetly along the pavement, spattering the tiny puddles formed from the misty, nighttime drizzle. For the most part, the crying diminished relatively quickly, tapering down into the sound of hiccoughing sobs.

 

The sobs belonged to a child, that much he was certain.

 

The voice berating said child no doubt belonged to a woman, filled with a harsh contempt that seemed malapropos.

 

_“Do you have any idea what time it is?”_

 

_“Oh, the entire cot — clean this mess up! Bring those sheets to the wash right now and then take yourself right up to the bath. You made this mess, you clean it!”_

 

_“Quiet now! Don’t you dare wake up your uncle. He has a meeting tomorrow morning!”_

 

_“Stop that sniveling. Dudley doesn’t have accidents anymore, so why do you? You’re much too old for this behavior!”_

 

_“Ridiculous. So much more trouble than you’re worth…”_

 

At some point between the venomous scolding and sniffles, Keiji’s fangs extended once more, lips writhing back from his teeth in predatory snarl; yet, he fought the urge get closer, to peer into a window and investigate.

 

Instead, Keiji stood.

 

And he listened.

 

It wasn’t until another thirty minutes passed by, long after the woman retreated — most likely up to bed — and the child remained alone but quiet, did Keiji finally walk away.

 

* * *

 

“I hope you’re hungry.”

 

Keiji watched as the tall form of the king pivoted away from the window to face him. He was partially set to retire, a thin white robe spun from the finest threads draped over his broad shoulders, creating a sharp contrast against his dark skin. It was cinched at the waist, but opened enough to display the solid expanse of his chest, and the valleys of hard muscle along his abdomen. He had yet to tie back his hair so the long dreadlocks fell freely past his shoulders.

 

“Famished. You linger too long in the mortal realm,” Lysandros chided good-naturedly, settling back into a deep armchair and motioning for Keiji. Crossing the room without pause, Keiji straddled his lap and pressed their foreheads together, a hand coming to rest along the sinewy neck. One of his fingers stroked the underside of the strong jaw idly.

 

“Hmm,” Keiji hummed, content by their close proximity, “Forgive me.”

 

“You’ve always had an adventurous spirit. Over four centuries’ time has not taken that from you.” Powerful hands slid up the outside of Keiji’s thighs and settled on his waist, thumbs catching along the silken material of his top and shirking the material up a little to caress the strip of revealed skin.

 

“Does that disappoint you?” Keiji inquired. A coy smile formed on his lips.

 

“You never disappoint me,” Lysandros assured, pulling away to unbutton the shirt deftly and pushing it back from his shoulders. In one fluid motion, Keiji allowed it to slip from his arms and onto the floor to give Lysandros better access to his naked flesh. Then those hands trailed up his spine, slipping around to caress the flat planes of his belly and upwards, pausing to rub lightly over dusky nipples. Keiji tipped his body into the touch.

 

Lips pressed against his sternum in a tender kiss seconds before those fingers pinched and twisted in concert, pulling the hardened little nubs into a state of pleasurable aching. Keiji’s moan was guttural, heat pooling south, gathering in his pelvis…

 

“You need to feed,” he urged, his tone becoming thick with lust.

 

“Oh, I intend to. You know how I so love to… _follow_ the blood,” the King replied, popping open the fastening of leather trousers before standing up with Keiji in his arms and guiding him down onto the bed, leaving the bottom half of his body to hang off the edge. Keiji’s feet planted themselves onto the floor in support as he waited for his pants to be torn off as smoothly as the shirt, slipping down his body like butter on a hot day and dropping out of sight so Lysandros could part his legs.

 

Coarse facial hair rubbed against the sensitive flesh of his inner thighs, sucking and lightly nipping, effectively increasing the blood flow to his lower regions.

 

Keiji let out a shuddered breath. “I brought several pints back from one of the Dives in London. Josephine Smythe of house Blackthorne sends her — _oh_ — her best.”

 

“How nice.” Lysandros dropped down and guided Keiji’s knees back to his chest and pressed down, splaying his legs wider, exposing his most intimate places. The promise of further exploration gleamed in those dark red eyes, but first, Lysandros turned his head and nuzzled and mouthed the flushed skin, right where he knew the femoral artery to be.

 

“You’d fare better if you fed properly, first. Taking blood from me is just foreplay,” Keiji murmured huskily.

 

_“But I wish to play.”_

 

A blissful cry tore from Keiji’s throat, back arching off the bed and body shivering eagerly as razor-sharp teeth sank into his thigh, drawing blood onto a hungry tongue, hot and thick and syrupy.

 

Keiji reached one hand between his quivering legs to thread his fingers in Lysandros’ hair. His toes began to curl in ecstasy, his head thrown back, pressing into the cushion of the bedding, and the rest of the worlds, both mortal and immortal, fell to oblivion.

 

* * *

 

Keiji tugged his hood down over his face a little further as he circled a lampost to avoid getting run over by a flock of preteens on bicycles.

 

He didn’t often pass into the mortal realm during the daytime. It was impractical to hunt when the sun was out, and the rays of light, though they didn’t reduce him to ash like humanity’s  fictional vampire lore claimed, were still painful on his bare skin. It had taken centuries for the sensitivity to ease up, his earlier years as a fledgling making it nearly unbearable to face the sun without blistering.

 

Even now, Keiji wore long sleeves and trousers made from a dense material that would shield his skin from the summer sun’s brutality. He had not bothered to dress to blend in, choosing instead to glamour himself entirely from human eyes — one of the few unearthly abilities vampires were reborn with.

 

He traced his steps back to the house on Privet Drive, number four, and watched from a distance as a young, black haired boy crouched in front of a flower bed, yanking weed after weed from the ground.

 

He was small, skinny limbed and petite, but his clothes were several sizes too large for his frame. His hair was wild and his skin was tanned a warm, golden hue that spoke of someone who spent a great deal of time outdoors. He wore round, thin-wired glasses that he kept shoving up the bridge of his nose with dirty fingertips.

 

Was this the boy he’d heard crying the week before?

 

Keiji advanced into the modest yard, stopping when he reached the stone birdbath that was void of any birds and filled with murky water. He watched the child work with a diligence that seemed beyond his years, standing up at one point so he could utilize his full weight to tug a particularly stubborn weed from the earth and landing hard on his backside when it uprooted.

 

The first time Keiji got a good look at his face, streaked with grime and sweat. His face was as tiny as the rest of him, eyes large and vivid green, lips rosy and pursed in concentration. Something grew in Keiji’s chest, a feeling he couldn’t place, and need he wasn’t accustomed to. It was reaching out like tendrils, trying to draw the boy into him, to protect and…

 

_No._

 

He recoiled sharply, taking a step away. This boy wasn’t his and never would be. Never _could_ be. He had a home and a family and that wasn’t, it wasn’t…

 

_Leave this place. Forget this child. What makes him so different than all the rest in the world? So many others have less..._

 

Gravel crunched beneath rubber, bringing Keiji back into reality. He tilted his head in the direction of a silver vehicle rolling into the driveway. The car shook under the weight of a huge, whale-like man stepping out of it. He hoisted his trousers up over his large belly that jiggled as he walked to the door. He stopped to look down at the sprawled boy through dark beady eyes.

 

“What are you doing lying around like that? Get up, boy,” he snapped, bending over to pull the child up roughly by his arm. “Up!”

 

His thick mustache twitched in annoyance and he leaned forward to hiss under his breath. “The Thompsons are coming over tomorrow evening. If you don’t finish your chores before supper, you’ll be going without any at all. Are we clear?”

 

“Yes, Uncle Vernon,” the boy mumbled. The man, Vernon, let out a sudden boisterous laughter just as a neighbor stepped outside next door. In an exaggerated display, he ruffled the dark head of hair.

 

“Atta boy! So good of you to help out your aunt — oh, hello there, Mrs. Gaines!” he boomed brightly before stepping into the house and closing the door tightly behind him.

 

The boy stood motionless for a moment, eyeing the closed door, one small hand coming up to touch his head where his hair had just been tousled with affection he didn’t look accustomed to. His slim chest heaved with a soundless sigh and sank to his knees once more. He set back to work.

 

Keiji’s nostrils flared, his mouth twisting in a moue of distaste. His feet brought him back to the child and he crouched down, peering intently at the little face that could not see him.

 

“Your uncle could be mistaken for a whale,” he whispered even though the boy could not hear him, either. “Back in my day, they’d hunt him down and we’d be dining on sashimi for weeks. Though, to be honest, I think he has more blubber than meat on him. Plenty of oil then...”

 

For a split-second, Keiji feared he failed to mute the sound of his voice to human ears. The child blinked rapidly, faltering a bit as if to clear his head, but then he reached for another green vine and continued on with his chores, Keiji nothing more than a silent presence beside him.

 

* * *

 

“I don’t think someone as young as you should be handling that contraption,” Keiji muttered warily, eyeing the creaky, metal mechanism the boy was pushing around by scarlet handlebars. Every movement spun the spiralled blade between the wheels, cutting down the grass to a shorter, more even length.

 

“You can’t be more than four or five years,” Keiji continued their one-sided conversation. “At your age I was _studying_ the blade, not actually _wielding_ one.”

 

He winced as the boy stumbled a little. One of Keiji’s hands shot out to keep him from falling but the child recovered his balance without his help. Just as well, Keiji wasn’t ready to reveal himself to the child, even as an invisible force keeping him upright. “...Okay, so this may be different from a sword, but I still don’t like it.”

 

* * *

 

“This is where you sleep?” Keiji asked, incredulous.

 

The glamour that concealed his body and his voice was per the norm these days. Despite having access to the entire mortal realm at the palm of his hand, despite his pitiful attempts to forget about the little green-eyed boy, Keiji found himself finding prey in London each and every time he went out to hunt. Then, like clockwork, he’d end up on _Number Four, Privet Drive._

 

His back was hunched uncomfortably, legs drawn snugly up to his chest and encircled by his arms. He sat there next to the boy, who in turn, lay curled up in a tiny ball in the dark cupboard under the stairs.

 

The child’s glasses were folded neatly on the shelf above his head beside a couple of broken figurines. Frowning deeply, Keiji eyed the cobwebs in the corners and the cracked paint that looked like it’d been chipped away at with a bored fingernail.

 

There was no way this cupboard could ever accommodate a growing boy, small statured or not.

 

The pictures of another child hanging along the wall up the staircase hadn’t gone unnoticed either; Keiji figured they had to be close in age, even if the pictured child was four times the size of the one currently slumbering six inches away.

 

“They must have a bedroom for that other child. Why don’t you two share it?”

 

Sighing, Keiji shifted down and laid carefully on his side, propped up on one elbow and supporting his head in his hand. His legs were bent awkwardly in the cramped space but he could bear it a while longer.

 

He gazed down at the sleeping face. Long, black eyelashes were fanned out along the tops of his cheekbones, and though he was skinny, his face still held that soft roundness of youth. His lips were parted a little and his gentle breaths were coming out in even puffs.

 

Unruly black hair was splayed out a bit on the lumpy pillow beneath his head, and for the first time, Keiji caught sight of a jagged scar, faded and pale against his otherwise tan complexion.

 

Curious, he dragged a single digit across it, tracing the scar in a touch the child would never feel.

 

“I shouldn’t keep coming here,” Keiji whispered eventually, unsure of whom he was talking to anymore: the boy who never heard him…

 

Or himself, who never listened.

 

“...But I can’t seem to stay away.”

 

* * *

 

“Hello there,” Keiji said, sitting down on the wooden bench. He was careful to keep as much distance between him and the child at the other end.

 

“Hello,” the boy echoed after a moment’s hesitation. He didn’t do much more than glance at Keiji quickly before bowing his head once more to resume peeling away at the white paint and letting the flakes fall to the ground.

 

It was fitting, Keiji thought, to finally greet the boy face-to-face in the same place he’d first heard him a month prior.

 

The sky was grey and cloudy and the air was humid, tell-tale signs of an approaching rainfall, but that didn’t deter the kids all around them. The park was filled with the screams and laughter of children, playing games, barreling down slides, taking turns swinging and jumping off at the highest point they dared.

 

“Hi, Harry!” a little girl with braided pigtails chirped, coming up to the brunette’s right. She clasped her hands behind her back, digging the toe of one of her sandals into the dirt shyly. “Do you want to have a go on the seesaws with me?”

 

The child’s head perked up at that, a surprised smile growing on his face. _And Keiji finally, finally had a name that wasn’t ‘boy’..._

 

_Harry._

 

“Er, yeah, sure, Ellie, I’d like that,” Harry decided equally as shyly. He shimmied from the bench to follow her. Keiji watched the pair seesaw back and forth, the creaking of them would have been lost in the bustling all around if not for his enhanced hearing.

 

Harry was smiling from ear-to-ear and so was the girl, Ellie. Hope bloomed in Keiji’s chest for the first time after weeks of watching, waiting for some sort of proof that the child would be okay. He settled back on the bench, grateful for the clouds blocking the sun long enough for him to witness this.

 

Today.

 

Today Keiji would say his silent goodbye to Harry and move on with his life.

 

Harry and Ellie went on playing together for maybe a minute more before they were interrupted by a loud, jeering voice.

 

 _“Ew,_ Ellie’s going to catch Freak cooties!” Keiji’s skin prickled, head snapping up to find the now familiar face of Harry’s cousin, he’d deduced by now, pointing an accusing finger at them.

 

 _“Ew!”_ laughed another boy, _“Freak cooties!”_

 

The children came out of the woodwork then, giggling and pointing, the word ‘freak’ becoming a collective chant all around. The cousin seemed to have a lot of power amongst the group of children.

 

Ellie’s face turned bright red from her spot on the ground, with Harry sitting high on the opposite end, legs dangling. She wasted no time clamoring off the seesaw. Harry crashed to the ground more roughly than she might’ve intended, but it was clear that Harry was the last thing on her mind.

 

“Do not!” she shouted. “I do _not_ have freak cooties!”

 

“Better go home and have a bath!” another kid urged, looking genuinely worried at the aforementioned _cooties._

 

 _What_ that was, Keiji had no idea.

 

Just as Ellie took off down the street, Harry stood up on skinny, unsteady legs, looking like he was on the verge of tears.

 

“Oh, he looks like he’s going to cry!” chortled another kid.

 

“What a _baby!”_

 

_“Harry Potter is a big cry baby!”_

 

_“I need a cootie shot!”_

 

_“Me too, me too!”_

 

_“Look at him run! The baby!”_

 

Keiji’s heart sank with heavy disappointment as he watched the dark head of hair disappear from sight.

 

* * *

 

“Have you ever wished for children?”

 

Keiji stretched like a cat along the length of the bed, arms rising above his head to help lengthen and realign his spine with a satisfying _pop_. He yawned into his hand, trying to play off his question as innocent curiosity, random and unusual as it was. Lysandros tilted his head to the side, bemused as he glanced over at him.

 

“We are about to discuss a tax on _javen root_ with the Council _,_ and you are asking me if I've ever wanted children?” Keiji sat up on the bed, turning to perch on the edge as he regarded the king.

 

“It’s a valid question,” Keiji defended.

 

“We’ve never had children in Nightborne, Keiji.”

 

“That is not _entirely_ accurate.”

 

Lysandros pushed him back onto the bed and crawled over his body, effectively caging him. Ropes of black hair tickled his face, chest, and neck. Keiji grinned broadly, twirling one with an idle finger.

 

“Not since I was one, myself,” Lysandros corrected, pecking just beneath Keiji’s jawline.

 

“And the Council.”

 

“And the Council.”

 

Lysandros remained over him. “We are a controlled population, beloved,” he said seriously, “I have not granted license for anyone to turn a human in nearly two centuries. We can not afford to have our numbers grow any further at such an exponential rate. Besides, turning a child _, period,_  is--”

 

“Forbidden. Yes, I am aware,” Keiji finished briskly. He placed both hands flat on his husband’s chest and shoved him off gently so he could dress himself, purposefully avoiding eye contact all the while. He barely had time to reach for his trousers before his chin was captured between a thumb and forefinger. A faint line formed between Lysandros’ eyes in a concerned frown.

 

“What is it that has you so upset?”

 

Keiji shimmied out of the hold to turn and climb into his leather pants. “...What of the ritual the First did to you? To transition you and the Council of Elders into his immortal offspring? He began it in your youth, didn’t he? It _is_ customary for a king have an heir, is it not?”

 

Lysandros’ eyebrows raised. “An heir is meant to inherit the throne when his or her predecessor is no longer able to or living. I was not aware I was in need of one. Do you intend to send me to my second death, beloved?”

 

Keiji threw him an aghast look while he paused to zipper the sleeveless, high collared vest made of the same supple black leather as his pants. His outfit mirrored Lysandros’, bar the cape made of deep gold velvet that matched the crown of spikes ascending from the top of his head.

 

“Of course not,” he said, placing a circlet of woven gold on his own head. “But even kings get tired, don’t they?”

 

At his mate’s silence, Keiji trudged on, “When I was born, Emperor _Go-Yōzei_ ruled. Then came his son, _Go-Mizuno_ , and after, well, I _died_ and lost track of who came next. And this is not just in Japan, my love, but all over Asia. Monarchs in the west, Europe, places like...like Great Britain.” He paused, Harry coming to the forefront of his mind for a split second before he put a tight lid on it.

 

“I'm well aware of all this, Keiji. Need I remind you my age far surpasses your own?” Lysandros said. Keiji flushed slightly under the suspicious stare he was receiving and fiddled with the fastening of his vest.

 

Lysandros sighed and took Keiji’s hand into his. “You are the only fledgling I have ever made, Keiji. For all intents and purposes, you can very well be considered my heir, should any tragedy befall me.” He brushed a featherlight kiss along the back of his knuckles and added, “Though I would not worry about that happening in this eternal lifetime of ours. I do not plan on going anywhere.”

 

* * *

 

 ****Keiji lasted two more months before his willpower crumbled.

 

Two months of watching.

 

Two months of listening.

 

Two months of keeping secrets from his husband, mate, _king._

 

...Two months of pretending he could overcome his interest for the boy called Harry Potter.

 

* * *

Feel free to find me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/cjblack322) if you have any questions or just want to say hi. :)

**Author's Note:**

> For the record, I am not typically a fan of OCs, but you're going to get some of those, especially in the beginning until Harry gets to Hogwarts. I recognize this story might not be everyone's cup of tea, but it's fun for me and let's my muses wander.
> 
> Speaking of Hogwarts, I have no idea who's going to be Harry's love-interest(s) in this story. I'm usually leaning to Draco (because it's me), but I've also toyed with the idea of a Draco/Harry/Blaise sandwich. Hell, I could try someone else completely, like Snape or Voldemort or Neville or Flitwick.
> 
> Okay, NOT FLITWICK.
> 
> I welcome any input. There's still time!
> 
> xx 
> 
> CJ


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